The Surrender of Aaron Hotchner
by Lenni George
Summary: Hotchner/OC - Hotch takes his first steps into the world of dating. Started as a oneshot - now up to Chapter 4. Should I keep going? You make the call!
1. Chapter 1

"_**A man loses his sense of direction after four drinks; a woman loses hers after four kisses"**_

_**Henry Louis Mencken**_

His head was pounding. It was a vicious dull throb that sat behind his eyes. Feeling the sunlight on his face, he instinctively knew that opening his eyes and looking into that sunlight would only make the pounding worse. He lay for another moment, before he was hit with the realization that the sun was hitting the right side of his face. That was wrong. The sun from his bedroom window always hit him on the left side.

Deciding that he wasn't home, he tried to determine where he might have been. He could tell by the smell of fabric softener in the sheets that he was not in a hotel. This put him in someone else's bed. But, the big question was, whose bed was it?

Prior to opening his eyes, he braced for the worst possible outcome. It wasn't like him to go home with a stranger, so he knew he would have to know his bedmate. He was naked under the covers, so he knew it had to be a woman. No amount of alcohol could convince him to bed a man that much he knew.

_Come on, Hotchner, be a man, _he mentally admonished, then forced open his eyes.

"You're awake," began a female voice from the door way.

Turning his head, his eyes settled on the bed's owner. Something in his brain told him that although he knew this woman, the last place he should probably be is naked in her bed. She was, after all, his son's pre-school teacher. And no matter how attractive he found Ana Schmidt's long black hair and how fascinating he found her eyes that were so dark brown in color that he sometimes couldn't distinguish the pupil, he probably should not have slept with her. Although neither of them got much sleep once they hit her very comfortable four poster bed.

"And you're confused," she gently laughed, walking to the bed. "Tell me you remember at least part of last night."

Wincing in the bright sunlight, he smiled, "I remember all of it."

"Are you sure?" she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, resting her hand on his chest.

He captured her hand in his and held it, offering her a smile. "Even the part where we both were asking each other if we were doing the right thing."

"Oh," she laughed, "You mean the part where we were asking each other if we were doing the right thing…as we were ripping each others clothes off?"

He laughed with her, "Okay, so it was mutual."

"Please, Aaron, I'm hardly some young virgin you took advantage of," she dismissed. "And yes, it is kind of awkward. But, last night was…fun. And I needed a night like that."

"I can't remember the last time I had a night like that," he seriously said, "If ever."

"You two were together a long time, weren't you?"

"We were together since high school," he admitted. Then, with a sheepish smile, "I think I'd forgotten what it was like to be with a woman other than her."

"I hope I didn't disappoint you," she tried, with a devilish smile.

"Disappoint me? Hell, last night was…" he trailed off, looking for a word that would describe their night.

"Explosive?" she offered,

"Adventurous," he decided.

"Okay, I'll go with that," she nodded, then, "Of course, my first thought this morning was that you'd be hightailing it out of here and pulling Jack out of St. Anselm's."

"I wouldn't do either thing," he promised. "Although, those parent teacher conferences will be a much different experience."

Her eyes flashed with alarm, "Oh my God…how am I ever going to face Hayley?"

"The same way I will," he simply said. "She's moved on, Ana. She's been seeing someone for a while now. I've had to learn to deal with it. It's her turn to deal with me seeing someone."

"Are you saying you want to see me?" she asked, with a smile.

"If that's okay with you," he replied, forcing down the strange melancholy that was creeping around the edges of his mind.

"You don't have to say that, we could chalk this up to a one night stand," she offered.

He appreciated the way she was giving him an honorable way out, but that wasn't the way he was going to play this. His dating skills might be antiquated, but he wasn't about to dismiss this as a one night stand. She was too bright, too funny, too easy to talk to, and way too sexy to brush off as a one time thing. Of course, the one thing she wasn't was Hayley. He'd spent too damn much time mourning his marriage and maybe, it was time to move on.

"You don't have to make a decision now," she lightly said, "It's not fair to force someone who's hung over to think like this."

"True," he nodded, "I can tell you that the hangover, unfortunately, is something that I've gotten used to since…" he looked at her. "Since she left."

"It's hard to start over," was her quiet reply.

He'd heard that her husband was an Army Sergeant, killed in Afghanistan back in 2002. She'd only briefly discussed it last night; quickly dismissing it to move on to lighter subjects, but it didn't take a profiler to know how deeply his death had impacted her.

"Yeah, it is," he said. He reached and caressed her cheek, drawing a smile from her.

"So, tell me the truth," she teasingly asked, "Were you just a wee bit afraid that you'd wake up with some one frightening?"

"Why? Were you?" he asked, turning it back on to her.

"For a minute, there, yeah," she admitted.

"Good, I'm glad I'm not the only one," he laughed. "But, instead, I woke up with an incredibly beautiful woman."

"Stop," she blushed, "You've already had me in bed, no need to waste the lines."

"I do not use lines," he firmly said, then laughed. "I don't know how."

"Oh, that's right, your dating skills are rusty…"

"Rusty? Covered with cobwebs and dust is more like it," he sniffed. "The last time I tried to date was in high school. And something tells me you won't be impressed with by my track letter and the fact that I scored the keys to my dad's car."

"Well, I never was big into the jocks," she laughed, "But, the fact that I know you have your own wheels makes you very attractive. But, I swear, if you think you can buy me dinner at McDonalds then take me behind the stadium to make out, we're done."

"Damn, there go my plans for tomorrow night," he said, then, seriously, "Would you like to go out tomorrow night?"

"I'd like that," she agreed. "I'd like that a lot."

"Good, then it's a date. I'll pick you up at 7?"

"Seven works," she said. "Guess I can get you some coffee now, huh?"

"Coffee would work wonders right now," he agreed.

She leaned over and pecked his cheek before standing up, "I'll be right back."

He watched her walk out of the room, fascinated by the sway of her hips. He'd found them fascinating last night, too. Allowing her to drag him out onto the dance floor, and guiding him through a very poorly executed Samba. He'd surrendered to his weakness last night. Surrendered to the alcohol, surrendered to his need for human contact and oddly enough, this morning, he felt better than he'd felt in weeks.

Last night was spontaneous, unplanned, exciting, all of the things that he had abandoned in his little cocoon of a world, the little cocoon that Hayley had crushed when she packed her bags, took Jack and walked out. She'd moved on with her life, seemingly finding the things she'd missed out on with this new man.

Maybe, he thought, he could find some of the things he'd been missing with Ana. Maybe it was worth giving this a shot. She seemed to understand how difficult this was for him, how awkward he felt, and she encouraged him to relax and have fun. She had him on the dance for, for Christ's sake. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been on a dance floor unless it was part of a crime scene.

No, it was time for Aaron Hotchner to shed that broken cocoon he'd been clinging to and step back into the world of dating. He was lucky that he had a willing partner to help him do it. Instead of sitting back and beating his chest over what he'd lost, it was time to step up and find something new.

Settling back into comfort of Ana's bed, he realized he'd already made a damn good start.


	2. Chapter 2

"_**Of all forms of caution, caution in love is perhaps the most fatal to true happiness."**_

_**Bertrand Russell**_

So far, Aaron Hotchner thought the date was going well. Thanks to a call to pull in a long due favor from David Rossi, he'd managed to score the prime table in the hottest restaurant in Alexandria. The food, as promised, was delicious. The wine, sent courtesy of the very same David Rossi, was perfect, and the conversation, after a few initial moments of nervousness, was flowing freely.

He'd decided over the course of their meal that he liked many things about Ana Schmidt. He liked the way her dark eyes conveyed her emotions. He liked her laugh, a true laugh, that despite the raised eyebrows at the "oh-so-upper crust" couple at the table next to theirs, she didn't try to tone down. He liked the way she flirted with him and how she responded to this awkward attempts at flirting back.

They'd lingered after dinner, continuing to talk over coffee and a very decadent serving of dark chocolate mousse. He'd never been a big fan of chocolate mousse but tonight, he'd deemed it his favorite desert. Of course, he wasn't sure if it was the actual mousse that he liked or the way she managed to share it with him by feeding it to him, mouthful by mouthful. He'd been eating on his own since he was a toddler, but there was something amazingly erotic to her actions that made him wonder why he'd become so damn independent.

Once he'd paid the check, they walked out front, waiting in the chilly spring night for the valet to bring his car.

"Dinner was amazing," Ana said, pulling her wrap around her shoulders. "Thank you."

"Thank you for coming," he returned, wanting to say something much slicker. He watched, as she shivered slightly. "You're cold," he observed, then thinking quickly, "Want my jacket?"

"I'm okay…" she dismissed, stepping closer to him.

_Damn it Hotchner, _he admonished himself, _this is a date, not your sister. S_lipping his arm around her, he said, "Well, if you won't take my jacket, I'll just have to keep you warm another way."

She smiled broadly, leaning against him. "I was so hoping you'd do that."

He smiled, "You could've given me a hint."

Ana shook her head, "No, the skills are in there, if I were to give you hints, you'd never shake those cobwebs."

"Come on, I'm not doing that bad, am I?" he coaxed, watching as her dark eyes sparkled.

"No, you're doing very well," she replied, with a sly smile, "Of course, now comes the hard part…"

"The hard part?"

She nodded, "Dinner's over. Now what?"

"Now what?" he repeated, realizing he didn't think of anything beyond dinner. Was he supposed to plan something after dinner? Damn this dating thing.

Ana's soft laugh pulled him from his thoughts, "That's okay. I actually have a plan."

Raising a brow, he asked, "And what would that be?"

Ana looked up at him, her eyes locking his, "I thought we could go back to my place."

He pulled her into his arms, "And just what would we do there?"

"Sit? Talk?" she said, as he leaned down and kissed her. Pulling back slowly, she said, "Do some more of that?"

"I was trying to show you that I was interested in more than sex," he said, kissing her again.

"Oh, I know you are," she returned, "We got through three and a half hours before you made a move. If you were just interested in sex, we never would have left my apartment."

He laughed, "I suppose you'd planned for that, too?"

She nodded, "Of course I did. I'm a fairly decent cook. If we didn't make it out, I would have just cooked something."

He shook his head, "Think I can talk you into ditching the teaching gig? I could use you on my team."

Ana laughed, watching as the valet parked his car at the curb. "Me? Hell no. There's no way I could deal with the stuff you deal with. I'm good at the way a pre schooler's mind works. For the most part, they're not too complex and there's no great amount of evil lurking behind those little faces." She paused, watching as he tipped the valet. "For the most part."

"I've seen some of those children," Hotch replied, with a wry smile, "Trust me, there's evil."

"_**The art of life lies in taking pleasures as they pass, and the keenest pleasures are not intellectual, nor are they always moral."**_

_**Aristippus**_

"So," Ana began, sounding slightly breathless, "It wasn't just the alcohol, was it?"

"I don't know," he returned, looking down to where she lay wrapped in his arms. "I think we may need to research this further."

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, "You think so, huh?"

"You don't agree?"

She pretended to mull it over for a moment, then, "I agree wholeheartedly. But…"

"Why is there always a but?"

"Because, tonight is Sunday night," she reminded. "And it's a school night."

"Ah, yes…" he nodded.

"And if you expect me to be awake enough to teach the brilliant young minds of St Anselm's 3 year old class, your son included, you're going to have to let me get some rest."

"I guess I should get out of here and let you get some sleep, shouldn't I?"

She moved up so that they were face to face and kissed him softly, "In a bit."

"This part's going to take some getting used to," he admitted.

Ana laughed, "Yeah, I guess after all that time, you're used to rolling over and falling asleep, not getting dressed and going home."

"Guess you take that stuff for granted," he mused, kissing her softly. "So, how bad was this for a first date?"

"It was perfect. Dinner in the hottest restaurant, great conversation…" her smile changed from sweet to devilish, "Great sex. What more could a girl ask for?"

"A second date?" he tried.

"I'd like that," she agreed.

"Assuming we don't pull a case, would tomorrow night work for you?"

She thought for a moment, "Tomorrow night is fine."

"Pick you up at 7?"

"Seven works," she nodded, then, "I have an idea, why don't I cook dinner for you? It's a week night, we'll both be tired. You can just come by after work and I'll make you dinner."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, "Yeah, I'm sure," she kissed him. "You might want to bring a change of clothes."

"A change of clothes?"

"In case you want to spend the night. I'm not that far from your place, the ride to work can't be that bad for you."

He smiled at her, "I'll bring a change of clothes."

"Good. Now, as much as I would love to spend the night wrapped in those strong arms of yours, you've got to get out of here."

"I know," he said, kissing her deeply, feeling himself stirring again.

"Okay," she said, as he worked his way along her neck, "You can stay for a little bit more."


	3. Chapter 3

"**Romance is thinking about your significant other, when you are supposed to be thinking about something else."**

**Nicholas Sparks**

Hotch parked his car in front of St Anselm's and watched the steady flow of parents walking in to pick up their children as well as parents leaving with their children. This was the choreographed chaos known as Friday night.

He knew that some of the parents were, like him, weekend fathers, picking up their children for their mandated every other weekend visitation. He could spot them, the ones who were so raptly involved in every word their much missed child said. They were taking their children home for a weekend of trying to pack too much fun into too little time.

Of course, none of those weekend fathers were dating their child's teacher. Well, none that he knew of, anyway. He'd hoped that he'd be able to maintain his well honed poker face when he saw her.

Other than tonight, he wouldn't get to see Ana for most of this weekend. They'd agreed that it was way too early in their relationship for her to join in on his weekends with his son. This meant that he wouldn't get to see her until Sunday night, after he met Hayley at 6 to hand Jack back over for the next two weeks.

As much he was looking forward to his time with son, he found himself wanting to see Ana as well. This worried him, after all, they'd only been involved for a few days and only had three dates, but there was something about her that lingered in his mind.

Sure, there was the sex and it was really great, but it was more than that and that's what scared him. He swore, after Hayley, that he wouldn't find someone who made him feel that way ever again. After all, Hayley was his first love and, he thought, his only love. He wasn't a man who took vows lightly and when he said, "To death do us part," he meant it. Apparently, somewhere down the line, she changed her mind.

Shaking off his thoughts, he killed the engine and got out of the car. Making his way through the crowd of parents, he walked into the three year old room. Spotting Jack, he smiled.

"Daddy!" Jack yelled, charging across the room into his waiting arms.

"Hey there, Bud," he said, picking him up and hugging him. "How was school?"

"Good," he said. "We made cookies."

"Cookies?" he asked, "What kind?"

"Choc'it chip," he grinned, "Some's in my bag."

"You've got some to bring home?"

He nodded, "All us did."

"You all did?"

He nodded again, "I put in the chips."

"And he did a great job, too," Ana's voice began, from his right. "Didn't you, Jack?"

"Yup, none spilled," he proudly said. "C'n we make some Daddy? I know how."

"We'll see, Bud," he laughed, looking at Ana, "Did you send home the recipe?"

"It's attached to the bag with the cookies," she replied, catching his eye for a moment.

He knew it was cliché, but looking into her eyes, he felt a jolt right through his core. This was not a good thing, he decided. He quickly pulled his eyes away and looked at Jack.

"You ready, Bud?" he asked.

"Ready, Daddy!" Jack grinned.

"Say goodbye to Miss Ana," he instructed, picking up Jack's backpack.

"Bye Miss Ana," he said.

"Bye, Jack," she returned, "I'll see you on Monday."

"Good night, Miss Ana," Hotch said, giving her a smile.

"Good night, Mr. Hotchner," she replied, "Have a good weekend."

XXXXX

After dinner at his favorite pizza place and four games of Connect Four, Jack started to yawn. Hotch got him into his pajamas and had him into bed by 9:30, only half an hour after Hayley's established bedtime.

Hotch poured himself a glass of scotch and settled on the sofa. Flipping open his cell phone, he dialed Ana's number, wondering if she'd be home from happy hour by now. She answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Ana? It's Aaron," he began.

"Hello there," she replied. He could hear the smile in her voice. "How was your night with Jack?"

"Good, we went for pizza, then he kicked my ass in Connect Four," he laughed.

"He's good at that game," she allowed. "Is he in bed?"

"Only half an hour late," he proudly said.

"From what you've told me, that's an accomplishment you should be proud of," she laughed.

"How was happy hour?"

"Not as happy as last week's. I stayed for one and done."

"So you're sitting home, all alone?" he said, with a smile.

"I am," she replied, "See, I've been seeing this amazing guy."

"He can't be too amazing if he leaves you home on a Friday night," he playfully said.

"Well, he's got his reasons," she responded in kind, "And they're damn good ones, so I can handle sitting home."

His voice grew quiet, "I want like hell to see you right now."

"Me, too," she softly responded, "Sunday night will come quickly. What's on tap for tomorrow?"

"T-ball tryouts, then shopping for a new glove and spikes," he replied. "I think we're going to do dinner at Bill's Burgers."

"You could actually make something healthy for the little guy, you know," she laughed.

"Trust me, with my cooking skills; I'd be arrested for reckless endangerment."

"Well then," she firmly said, "I believe we'll have to build some cooking lessons into our next date."

"Cooking lessons?" He laughed. "You're going to try to teach me to cook."

"No, I'm not going to try; I'm going to do it. Jack's one of my brightest students, so I'm sure you're intellectually capable of learning to make dinner. We'll just have to work on the practical portion."

"I warn you, I'm not going to be one of your better students," he said. "I may be easily distracted."

"Oh really? And why would that be?" she asked, her tone growing soft and seductive.

"I'm afraid I have a thing for the teacher."

"Hm…now that's something new for me," she mused, "My usual students don't know what it's like to "have a thing". Should I be concerned that this will interfere with your studies?"

"I don't know. We'll have to play it by ear," he replied, wishing he could have come up with something a bit slicker.

"I'm sure we'll muddle through," she replied. "So, you still coming by on Sunday night?"

"Do you still want me to?"

"Of course," she laughed, "I think we'll start our cooking lessons."

That was not exactly what he'd had in mind for Sunday evening's activities, but he didn't come out and say it. He was still unsure of this whole situation, still didn't want to make a wrong move or be too pushy. "Okay," he replied, his voice giving away mild disappointment.

"Stop pouting," She laughed, "I'll make it highly enjoyable and the next time you have Jack, you can make him a marvelous meal. And, after we eat, we can work on that "thing" you have for your teacher."

He smiled, "I was not pouting. I do not pout."

"Whatever you say, Aaron," she giggled, "But I heard a pout."

"I do not know how to pout," he insisted, then stopped, listening to the sound of her laughter. "At least I don't think I do."

"We'll work on that Sunday, too," she teased.

"Sunday's going to be a busy evening."

"It is, but don't worry, after all of your lessons, I'll make sure you're properly rewarded."

"I'll hold you to that," he smartly returned.

"I have no doubt that you will. Now, you're going to have a long day with Jack tomorrow, so I suggest you get some sleep."

"Sleep? At 9:45?" He couldn't remember the last time his head hit the pillow before midnight. He was planning on reviewing some files after he spoke to her.

"Yes, sleep. Try it, for me, okay? I promise you'll like it."

"Okay, I'll give it a shot."

"Good, now go."

"Can I call you tomorrow? After I put Jack to bed?"

"Of course," she said. "I'll be here."

"Good night, Ana," he said quietly.

"Good night, Aaron," she returned, and then broke the connection.

Taking a sip of scotch, he looked at the phone. "What the hell are you doing, Hotchner?" he asked himself. Taking another drink of scotch, he dryly laughed, then answered himself, "I'm falling in love with my son's teacher and I'd damn well better not fuck it up."


	4. Chapter 4

**You don't have to cook fancy or complicated masterpieces - just good food from fresh ingredients.**

**Julia Child (1912 - 2004)**

After dropping Jack off at Hayley's, Hotch drove back to Ana's apartment. He'd called her to let her know he was on the way. She told him she'd set up for their cooking lesson and teased him not to back out. Where cooking was not what he wanted to do that evening, his need to see her was strong, so he decided that he would do what she asked.

He was surprised to see just how serious she really was about the whole thing. When he arrived, she greeted him at the door with a kiss, then took his hand and led him into the kitchen. Explaining along the way that by the time he left her apartment, he'd know how to make chicken fingers and macaroni casserole. A meal that she knew Jack would love to help prepare as well as eat.

He'd held his own with crushing the cornflakes. That part wasn't difficult. He'd managed to get the water boiling and add the pasta. He could even handle grating the cheese. Cockiness was starting to set in, until she brought out the eggs. It seemed that in order to get the cornflakes to stick to the chicken, he would have to drag it through a beaten egg.

Aaron Hotchner did not get along with eggs. Going through middle school in the late 1970's and high school in the early 1980's, he'd been subject to a "progressive education", which sometimes blurred the established gender rules. This meant that he'd taken cooking classes, not once, but three times over the course of his middle school and high school career. They were the lowest grades he'd ever received.

Despite all of his best attempts, he'd never been able to crack an egg. He'd smashed them, crushed them, demolished them beyond recognition, but he had never been able to simply crack the shell in two and have the egg fall neatly into the bowl below. After a while, he gave up, avoiding being anywhere near the kitchen when eggs were part of the recipe. Ana didn't listen to any of his warnings, she simply handed him an egg and told him to crack it into the bowl she'd set in front of him.

He'd just about crushed the first egg. He swore the second egg just exploded, as there were shell pieces everywhere. The third egg cracked a bit better, but a lot of shell made it into the bowl. He grew frustrated, but Ana would not allow him that luxury. She didn't laugh, didn't lose patience, she simply encouraged him to try again and handed him egg after egg until finally, 11 eggs later, he cracked it properly.

When he finally did, she grinned and pecked his cheek. Thinking fast, he told her that after all that work; he deserved more than just a peck on the cheek. With a laugh, she threw her arms around him and gave him a deep, sultry kiss. He pulled her closer and returned the kiss, nearly derailing her entire cooking lesson, but she managed to squirm from his arms and put them back on track.

Well, mostly on track. He had to admit that his concentration level took a nose dive after that kiss. As she guided him through the rest of the meal's preparation, he vacillated between wanting to back her against the wall and ravish her and then feeling guilty for not concentrating on something she obviously put great thought and preparation behind and trying to reduce the evening to a mindless sexual fling.

His guilt was slightly assuaged when, after placing the food in the oven and setting the timer, she turned to him and with a sexy smile asked, "So, what could we do to kill thirty minutes?"

He answered by pulling her into his arms and kissing her. Wrapping her arms around him, she responded passionately. With the timer ticking in the back ground, clothing was loosened, some pieces being cast to the floor, others remaining, while their tongues tangled and their hands explored and teased. With a sense of urgency, he helped her to balance on the edge of the counter and his prior fantasy of ravishing her in her small kitchen quickly came true.

He stood, still bracing her against the counter, with her body wrapped around him, resting his head on her shoulder, waiting for his breathing to slow.

"Wow," she said, pulling back and smiling at him. "Who knew that playing beat the clock would be so much fun?"

He kissed her softly, "I'm never going to look at this kitchen the same way again."

"That was not part of the recipe," she laughed. "Do not try that when you make this for Jack."

"Trust me," he laughed with her, "I'll leave that step out."

She looked over his shoulder at the timer, "We've got five minutes. We should probably get dressed."

Helping her down from the counter they looked around the floor. Odd pieces of clothing lay strewn about the floor.

"There was no rhyme or reason, was there?" he mused, pulling up his jeans.

"You're trying to put reason to passion," she dismissed, with a wry smile. "I'd have thought someone in your line of work would know better."

"It's one of my faults," he admitted, watching as she buttoned her white cotton shirt. "I tend to over analyze things."

"Yeah, I noticed," she replied, slipping on her black lace panties. "Can I be honest with you?"

"I wish you would," he simply said, bracing for her words.

"You," she began, picking up her jeans from the floor, "Are thinking too much."

He raised a brow, but didn't say word, waiting for her continue.

"This isn't rocket science, Aaron. We're dating…" she gently said.

"I'm not used to dating," he tried, then deciding to go with honesty, "I'm afraid to screw it up."

"You too?" she smiled.

"You're afraid to screw this up?" he asked, surprised by her revelation. She seemed so relaxed, so laid back. He never imagined that she was worrying about screwing things up.

"Of course I am," she seriously said.

Their conversation was interrupted by the buzz of the oven timer.

"Shit," she said, laying her jeans over the counter and grabbing the oven mitts. "Can you set those wooden trivets out on the counter for me?"

He nodded, grabbing the trivets and setting them on the counter. He watched as she quickly removed the baking tray with the chicken fingers and the casserole, then closed the oven door and turned it off.

"Well?" she asked, smiling at him. "There it is your first culinary creation."

"It actually smells good, too," he laughed.

"Wait til you taste it, "she winked. "Why don't you get drinks and I'll bring the food out."

"Sounds good, what do you want?"

"Iced tea? I forgot to pick up wine, but there's beer and scotch."

"You know," he said, offering her a smile, "We haven't had a date that didn't involve alcohol. I think I'll take the iced tea."

She smiled broadly. "I was hoping you'd say that," she said, placing the chicken fingers on a serving platter. "See, that was one of my worries. That you'd only be interested in me if we were drinking."

"Ana, that couldn't be further from the truth," he assured her.

She shrugged, "Well, you have to admit, we're good at drinking and having sex…"

He watched as she carried the platter into the dining room, still wearing only her shirt and the black lace panties. He thought about reminding her about her jeans, given her last comment, it would have been the right thing to do. But, he liked the way she looked. Her dark hair was tousled from their round of "beat the clock", her shirt half buttoned, revealing the black lace of her bra, her tan legs were bare, yeah, she looked hot. He wanted to tell her, but held back.

"Hey," she said, pulling him from his thoughts, "Did I say the wrong thing?"

He shook his head, "No, you're being honest. Honesty is important."

"Well, I will tell you that I'm enjoying the hell out of the having sex part," she winked, picking up the casserole and carrying it to the table.

As he poured them glasses of iced tea, she walked back into the kitchen, and then laughed.

"And how long were you going to let me walk around with out these?" she said.

He turned to find her holding up her jeans. "Sorry, I kinda liked the look."

She shook her head, with a laugh and set the jeans back down on the counter. "Okay." With that, she walked into the dining room, adding a little more sway to her hips as she walked.

"You're trying to torture me," he laughed, carrying the glasses into the dining room. As he set the glasses on the table and sat down, she set a plate of food in front of him.

"Try it, tell me what you think," she encouraged.

He cut a piece of chicken and placed it in his mouth, chewing it slowly. He was surprised at just how good it was.

"Well?" she asked, with an anxious smile.

He swallowed, "That's good."

"Of course it is! Don't sound so surprised!" she laughed. "Try the macaroni."

He quickly placed a fork full into his mouth. It was good too. "That's good, too."

"And you made it," she proudly said. "Now, I wrote down the recipes, too. Will you make it for Jack next time he's over?"

"I will," he agreed. "I think he'd get a kick out of crushing the corn flakes."

"And now you can teach him to crack eggs, too."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," he laughed, picking up another piece of chicken and placing it in his mouth.

"If you chicken out, no pun intended, you can use Egg Beaters," she admitted. "I wrote that on the recipe."

"You're too good to me," he said, with a smile.

"Ah," she shrugged, "I did it for Jack. He deserves real food when he stays with his dad. How was your weekend with him?"

"Good, we did a lot of running around yesterday. He made the t-ball team."

"That's great!"

"They all made the t-ball team," he explained.

"But still, he's got to be excited."

"He is," he fondly remembered, "He slept with his baseball glove on Saturday night."

"I'm sure I'll hear all about it tomorrow," she agreed, then, with a devilish grin, "Of course, I'll have my own memories of my time spent with Jack's dad."

"Oh yes," he nodded, "Memories of me destroying a dozen eggs, then desecrating your kitchen counter."

"Now, see, I happen to think those are good memories," she winked. "I never had sex on the kitchen counter."

"Come to think of it, neither have I," he laughed.

"Today was a day for firsts," she mused, "Your first sex on the kitchen counter, your first perfectly cracked egg, the first meal you cooked."

"You're opening up a whole new world, Ms. Schmidt," he smiled, as she stood up and walked over to him.

Pushing his chair back from the table, he pulled her onto his lap. He watched as her features clouded. _Great, _he mentally raged, _now you've said something to upset her._

"Did I say the wrong thing?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

She shook her head. "It's my turn to over think things," she lightly said, slipping her arms around his neck. "Just promise me one thing. When you decide that you're ready to move on, just let me know okay?"

He was surprised by her words and didn't try to hide it. "What makes you think I'll do that?"

She shrugged, looking away, "This is your first…fling, since Hayley…"

"Stop," he said, a bit more sharply than he'd wanted, causing her to snap her head and look at him. "This isn't a fling, Ana."

"Aaron…"

"No, it's not," he stopped, wondering if he read her wrong, maybe it was a fling for her. "Unless that's what you want it to be…"

She sighed, "I don't want it to be a fling, Aaron," she admitted, "But I don't want to force you into a relationship if you're not ready. I've been single longer than you. I've gone through the whole dating thing. I think I'm ready for a relationship again. You're just getting started."

He looked her in the eye and spoke quietly, "I do not have an overwhelming need to play the dating scene and spend my nights in a bar, spending too much money on the bimbo of the night, only to take her home, get my rocks off, and move on to the next one. If I'd have wanted to do that, I wouldn't be here."

"But…"

"No, Ana, no buts," he continued, "I am used to being with one woman, it's the way I am, the way I like it." Seeing her smile, he continued, "That may be an archaic way of life, but I find it much more appealing."

"As do I," she agreed.

"Good, then we're on the same page," he nodded, then, seriously, "You know about my job. There may be times when I need to leave town with little or no notice…"

She nodded, "I was married to an Army Sergeant, Aaron, I'm used to keeping the home fires burning for months at a time. I can handle a week or two." She smiled, "Just promise me, if you're doing some daring raid or going in with guns blazing you'll wear a vest."

He chuckled at her words, "I always do. I got so used to it when I was with SWAT, that I feel naked without it now."

She gave him a sly smile, "Hm…now that's an image."

Happy to see her with a sexy smile, he played along, "What image would that be?"

"You, naked, except for a bulletproof vest and a gun…" she laughed.

He winced, "Wouldn't happen…"

"Oh, I don't know about that," she teased, "Not even if I asked nicely?"

He laughed, "Okay, maybe, as long as you promise there will be no cameras involved."

"You take all the fun out of it," she laughed, kissing him softly.


End file.
